Lacy Pauley painted the picture in writing for Frank Poland about his family experience in attending the annual Lowe’s Family Reunion in Pike County, Kentucky. From Lacy’s story, Frank created lyrical phrasing with music so everyone could experience this wonderful Appalachian Family Reunion event.
An Appalachian Family Tradition
Each August when the summer sun hangs heavy in the sky,
Local families and a Church gather where mountain memories lie.
In Pike County, Kentucky, there’s a road that climbs a hill,
To a family cemetery where the past is with us still.
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For eighty years they’ve gathered there, as generations come,
With family, friends, and neighbors, making memories as one.
Once hundreds filled that hillside, five hundred sometimes came,
Today the crowd is smaller, but the love remains the same.
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At Fountain B and Musie’s home, where cemetery road begins,
The memories of another time come gently drifting in.
A half-mile up the hill’s winding road, the cemetery starts,
A place where family history and today’s life reaches hearts.
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When Memorial Day arrives, to cemetery hill they start,
With willing hands and faithful hearts, each doing their own part.
They clear away the leaves and limbs, restore the resting ground,
And straighten stones that time has tilted as the years go ’round.
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Reunion Day, some tackle the hill, pickups and vans making the climb,
And finding room to park them all would take a little time.
Some walked the winding half-mile road, as the disabled were shuttled,
And getting everyone up that hill became a challenge to muzzle.
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The benches waited from last year, some boards replaced with care,
With plastic bags to guard the clothes from insects lurking there.
A generous dose of bug spray became the dress of the day,
For chiggers, ticks, and mountain bugs were never far away!
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At ten o’clock the service starts beneath the mountain sky,
The Old Regular Baptist gather, with their songs and prayers held high.
Two or three songs, a preacher’s word, the Scriptures in their hearts,
And familiar verses rise again as worship gently starts.
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The preachers quote the Bible from the memories they hold,
With amens and with handshakes, the message long retold.
And if a sermon lingers longer than time allotted to say,
The song leader would start a song to gently lead the way!
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Some gather close to listen, some renew a friendship dear,
For many have been waiting for this one day of the year.
Then names of those now resting there are read for all to hear,
A roll call of the family who once were gathered there.
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Then down the hill to a covered shed, where tables overflow,
The ladies have been working hard, with food enough to go.
A preacher returns thanks for all the food and ask it to be blessed
While hungry folks form lengthy lines, to receive only the best!
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There’s chicken, pies, and country sides, enough for one and all,
And like the loaves and fishes, there’s more than folks can call.
Some neighbors come for lunch alone, and that’s just fine with me,
For there’s always room around the table for every family.
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A National Geographic reporter once came to see,
What made this mountain gathering so special as could be.
Ina Pauley made it clear, with pride she wanted shown,
That educated, working people called this mountain home.
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Degrees and occupations never tell the whole story,
Of the people and their heritage that provide family glory.
The reporter saw the beauty and the people gathered there,
And wrote a tribute to the mountains and the lives they share.
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Then come the hugs and goodbyes, the final words are said,
And folks begin their journeys home with memories in their head.
The hill grows quiet once again, everything is put away,
The cemetery stays behind until the next Reunion Day.
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For this is more than just a picnic, more than food and fun,
It’s eighty years of family ties that time cannot outrun.
It’s honoring those who came before, remembering their names,
And teaching those who follow us that love outlives the same.
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May August find us gathered there as long as God allows,
With grateful hearts and memories beneath the mountain brow.
So gather round cemetery hill, let the old family stories flow,
Remember those who came before, while teaching the young to know.
For years may pass and faces change, but one thing will remain:
This Appalachian Family Tradition will gather for reunion again.
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